


Old Ground

by FiKate



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Chess, Missing Scene, New York City, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiKate/pseuds/FiKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the prompt <a href="http://eternal-elenea.livejournal.com/102733.html?thread=531533#t531533">xmfc, charles xavier/erik lehnsherr, <i>did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage? how i wish, how i wish you were here. we're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year, running over the same old ground; and what have we found? the same old fear.</i></a> at the Noir Ficathon. Thank you to Lordoflorien for betaing.</p><p>Chess is a constant thread in Charles and Erik's relationship together, this fic looks at their games through the years. References <i>X-Men: First Class</i>, <i>X2: X-Men United</i> and <i>X-Men: The Last Stand</i>.</p><p> <i>Chess games were a constant there and he smiled at the comfortable silence of the men he passed, who nodded at him. They knew how to slip from the world in the space of a game and ignore the body’s reality.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Ground

Their first game of chess was in the CIA facility, the chess board was wooden and beat up as many agents had used it to pass long nights. It all happened by accident, neither of them could sleep and though the air was thick with tension, chess required only your move and check. Neither of them slept that night and no one really won either, pieces were taken off on both sides as for each game won another was lost. When Erik went to start the coffee and Raven found them, he said, “Who knew you could be so ruthless, Charles.”

Until it all fell apart on that beach in Cuba, they played together almost every day using chess to defuse the worst of their disagreements. There was scotch to drink, burning their throats as they spoke of moves and tactics but always without names, no humans, no mutants just pieces.

The chess set that lived in the midst of Charles’ study was tucked away into a drawer, Hank found it as he was searching for a monograph of Charles’. Gently, he took out the pieces and set them on the table when Charles wheeled himself in and stared. Hank’s smile was careful, no teeth as he asked, “One game?”

The pieces never went far but didn’t come out as often, Hank wasn’t as ruthless, he was methodical in his choices.

A year after Cuba, Charles found a white bishop on his desk. After he thought for a moment it seemed he had felt the touch of Raven’s mind. The piece was on its own, a question and an invitation that Charles kept in his suit pocket for days. He placed a black rook in the mailbox and began to arrange a trip to New York. There were meetings that had to be done for the school to run as it should and one afternoon, he went to Central Park. Chess games were a constant there and he smiled at the comfortable silence of the men he passed, who nodded at him. They knew how to slip from the world in the space of a game and ignore the body’s reality. When he saw and felt Erik, he pushed forward and they played. The chess pieces were metal, Erik had brought them and they only spoke of game strategies, yet beneath there was always more. As Erik said the final mate, Charles said, “You’re more careful, Erik.”

“Each piece has a price.” Then he walked away and Charles reset the board and returned to what he knew saying to the air, “Too high a price.”

Before their next game, there was bloodshed and time was full of people and pieces lost forever to dreams and anger. This time there were fewer words and the game quickly turned ruthless as unspoken pain filled the air between them. After an hour, Charles moved his chair back where it stuck in the stones and he cursed until Erik came around to release him and said softly, “I know.”

Then they played until the sky began to shift and they went their separate ways and for a time, the world was quieter.

Jean found him one year for he kept few secrets from her, but chess was an onion, layer upon layer in his mind. He had taught her to play it and understand that it could be useful to a point. Yet every few years, there would be a chess piece in the mailbox and even once on his desk, it wasn’t his set or anyone she knew. After it, he would smile and watch his thoughts carefully, this was precious and she didn’t wish to pry, but she’d never seen him look so far away. In the park, she watched him play with a man whose face meant all that he wasn’t: anger, hatred, and constant conflict. Though it held none of that as they played, they were two among many lost in the tactics of chess and she left hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Before she slept, he came to her room and said as his eyes were heavy, “We’re out of time there, Jean.”

“You balance out.”

“Perhaps, sleep well.”

Next time that he went to play, he left Jean a note and she smiled quietly for what she was starting to understand, they needed each other.

They became known in the park while the faces around them changed, but they kept returning for balance and a chance to go back to just pieces. During the worst years, the games were quick and ruthless, each move to match a death and they never felt like victories. They grew grey as the space between games stretched from a year or two into five or seven.

In the glass cage created by those who didn’t understand the power of saying we see you, the games became more frequent. Though there the words changed to the reality, they had no need to hide where all could see. With every pawn, the dead were recalled and old tactics talked over. Let the world listen. Perhaps then they might understand how alike they truly were.

Then the choices changed and were taken away with a cure that wasn’t but a curse and fire burned too deep. He had escaped and they didn’t pursue him for what could he do now without what had made him dangerous? What they didn’t understand was that he was still himself and in the park, he played against all comers searching for a face that wouldn’t return. When he heard the faintest thrum of metal, he smiled and he said, “They can never change us, Charles. We shall always be more than them.”


End file.
